Children of the Archangels

CHAPTER 20: WHO WANTS TO ROB A LIBRARY?

After a long day of fighting and finding out the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, Luke just wanted a good night's sleep. Was that too much to ask for?

Apparently, it was.

Luke saw an image flash before his eyes: a red planet scared with black mountain ranges that ran like veins on the surface of the planet's skin. A swirl of brown dust swept across the planet like rust over metal.

Below were the shouts of beings at war. Swords clashed against one another, lightning exploded from the sky, water poured forth from the hands of men and women with wings. Wind funneled into twisters. The ground split open at the feet of fallen soldiers, swallowing them into the ground coated in their dried blood.

Luke stopped at the top of a mountain. Standing beside him was a being who shined so bright, Luke dared not to look for fear he might be blinded. His voice had a hint of royalty to it, like a king giving a rousing speech.

Although this being's figure was bright, Luke knew this was not the voice of God but of one who was trying to be God.

"You know what you must do. My first rebellion failed. We shall not come away from this one empty handed," the bright light spoke.

Then Luke heard the voice of a boy who was probably just in the early phases of puberty. "But sir, the book is guarded by my master."

Luke heard a scuffle. He could imagine the king getting very angry and grabbing the child by his robes. "Then kill your master. I am confined in my prison. Just sending a piece of me up here was a hassle. You will retrieve that book. It is critical for the final revolution."

The child gulped. "Yes sir."

And just like that, the light vanished. The child was left alone. Luke uncovered his face and saw the face of an angel. He wore a beige robe with minimal leather protecting his chest. He looked like a messenger. His hair was tired in a ponytail, but by far the most stunning thing about him were his wings. They were small white wings, whose tips were covered in white flames that never consumed the entire feather. Each flame seemed to flicker on its own.

The young angel studied the battle raging below. The bloodshed occurring wouldn't affect his kind, but the offspring of those his kind took to liking. Children mixed between human and angel laid slain on the ground while parents fought with opposers who sought to cull the abnormalities of nature.

Luke couldn't tell which side was better, and neither could the angel.

The angel took off into the hazy sky and the scene shifted.

The angel was inside a library, filled with an endless number of books. An infinite number of bookshelves were filled with an unlimited number of scrolls and codices that held knowledge the likes that only God can comprehend fully. Some say Heaven is like this, an endless library where you can read and learn new things until the end of time, constantly discovering something new.

But for Luke, the place was pretty depressing and dusty. Little light penetrated through the walls of books, and any light that did reach was filtered somber red. Blazing through the aisles was the angel, flying as fast as he could to a section of the library that was closed off by a black gate and guarded by two stone statues of wide angels with six wings.

The young angel summoned a flame into his hand and shaped it into the shape of a key. He inserted the flame into the lock and Luke heard a spark and then a click. The gates opened up and shifting on their pedestals were the statues of the large chubby angels with six wings. They looked slightly slimmer than sumo wrestlers, and they stepped off of their pedestals.

The young angel plucked on one of his feathers gracefully and it grew into a flaming white sword in his hand. With the speed of lightning, he sliced off the wings of the statue angels, and they crumbled to dust instantly.

The sword shrunk down into a candle that the young angel used to light the way to reveal a bookcase that guarded what Luke thought must've been the biggest book he had ever seen. The binding was thicker than the crust of the planet. The pages must've seen to the destruction of the entire planet's forest in order to create. Black ink painted the pages with endless amounts of names.

"The Book of Life," the angel muttered. He flipped to the first page and stared at the first name crossed off the list. "Lucifer, The Morning Star, Elemental Angel of Light."

The angel heard a noise towards the front of the library. He had to be quick. He closed the book and traced a cross across the front of the book. The book shrank down to the size of a keychain. He stuck the book in his robes and disappeared.

Then the scene changed again. The young angel was flying through the air, returning towards the edge of the planet. The invading forces were retreating. Soon, all those who had betrayed the Lord would be kicked out to join those who had already fallen after the first rebellion. The young angel had to leave quickly before he got left behind in enemy territory.

That's when a red light blinked from above, and a comet materialized from thin air and crashed into the angel's body. He fought the force of the comet as best as he could, but eventually, it dragged him straight into the rusty dirt below. The impact caused an eruption of red sand to spread for miles, creating a suspending rusty fog.

The young angel coughed up sand and dug himself free from beneath the hot comet. If the angel wasn't partially immune to fire, then he would've been burnt worse than an overcooked steak.

After setting himself free, he looked around his surroundings and tried to gather himself. That's when a blazing red light appeared amongst the rusty brown fog. Then the massive wings made of white fire followed, and unlike the young angel's wings, this fire consumed all the feathers from end to end.

Emerging from the fog was a much older angel holding a flaming red sword. He wore beige robes too, but on top of it was a coat of ruby armor. His hair was cut short, and zapped like orange lightning, but waved in the movement of a flame in a hearth.

"Jorahel," the old angel sounded hurt, as if he had been mortally wounded in the heart even through his ruby armor. "My star pupil. Why did you betray me and turn to Lucifer?"